Drawl (read out loud)

A time to speak up

 

Think of it

Not

As punctuation,

But rather

Dialect, decorated

By accented diacritical marks.

 

If I speak in such

A manner that’s averse

To the way your words wander,

Perhaps you should listen

To how variations

Play across our story:

 

Resistance exists

Along the blade

Of consonant’s hiss and click.

As the oldest god

Has whispered before:

The word changes the world.

 

(December 20, 2017)

 

Committed to Ritual

 

bandstand-pic 

The days and nights pass

in calm acquiescence. As

expectations lurk without

patience, sad laughter slips

into conversation’s pauses.

We each drink to avoid the

silent ramifications: there’s

nothing to say; and, what’s said

means nothing. A stock phrase

spills from a stock question

in a communal recitation.

Only empty gestures remain

to conjure, with a hollow

dance, the clichés of love.

 

(May 10 2018)

I Slag Off Bits of Myself

rainbow3

 

moments decades gone by

twist tightly at my throat

 

I cannot speak beyond garbled

syllables juxtaposed like a collage

 

each angle cuts a new facet

to bend the light of reason

 

as prisms blur rainbows

across a darkened wall

 

I am shattered into colors

frayed and inarticulate edges

 

until what I once knew whole

fades into inconsequence

 

and regret like memory reverberates

throughout the gathering darkness

 

(March 9, 2018)

she lingers

 

giphy

above the brook’s surface,

as thought insinuates

itself past itself,

and petals escape eddies

to slip downstream

like small silent ships

without consequence,

here, on the rock’s face,

a sheen of mist,

far into the afternoon,

clings to shadows

folded within crevices

like secret notes

tucked furtively

into a back pocket

before she walks away

 

(February 25, 2018)